


Twist me inside out and break me apart then assemble and make me yours

by SharkEnthusiast



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish & Blue Sargent Friendship, Adam Parrish Is Trying His Best, Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Alive Noah, Alive Noah Czerny, Blue Sargent-centric, Child Abuse, F/M, Gen, God - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Its platonic, M/M, Ronan Lynch & Blue Sargent Friendship, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, blue sargent god i love her, chill out man none of that relationship here, god i hate robert parrish and whatever his wifes name is, god im soft for them, im soft for the gangsey dont @ me, okay sorry for this crap im agressive, this is very cliche and used dear god whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-09-30 21:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkEnthusiast/pseuds/SharkEnthusiast
Summary: God, Blue wants to get out of run down, loud Nino’s, out of run down, loud Henrietta, out of run down, loud Virginia.She looks at Adam, with the hollow cheeks and shaky hands and hungry eyes. With the week old yellowing bruises, the extra hours, the stash of crumpled bills she lets him keep in a box in the attic of 300 fox way. With his anger and stubbornness and fear.God, she wants him out too.Before Gansey Ronan Noah Henry Adam Blue it was just Adam and Blue. Poor as dirt, 7 shifts a week, aching with longing.Where Adam and Blue were before. (And after and everything in-between)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fic focussing on adam and blue's FRIENDSHIP because i am insanely soft for them. 
> 
>   
i felt the need to make it clear that this is not romantic even if it seems like it from the summary! just buds being buds and loving eachother unconditionally  
i mean also gansey and blue and ronan and adam cause you know but no like adam and blue or whatever i dont even know if thats a thing. 
> 
> Yes, i know this is not original.  
also the thing with noah being alive is that technically hed be like out of aglionby but in this fic no siree he's the same age of the rest of them and has never met barrington welk before he started as their latin teacher whoop whoop.

Blue Sargent does not have much experience in worrying. 

She’s too loud, too angry, too sensible, too sure of herself for that. 

She did not worry when Maura was out all of last week. She does not worry about Nino’s and that someday, she is pretty sure the raven boys will burn it down. She does not worry about the math test and does not worry about kissing her true love.

She doesn’t worry except when about Adam Parrish because not only is he her closest friend, he also needs to be worried about every once and awhile. 

She’s worried that someday she won’t be able to tell if the dark circles under his eyes are actually dark circles and not bruises. She’s worried that someday she will have found that he has worked himself to death. She’s worried that he’ll hurt himself or that his father will kill him or that he will get hit by a car or that-

“Sargent!” Allen, her manager for the night shouts over the music and raven boys. “Get your ass up and working! 2 of your tables food is ready to go, and you’ve been over here wringing your hands!” 

Blue rolls her eyes. She hates this job. She hates Allen. She hates raven boys and their weird obsession with this place. She hates that Adam Parrish is late to his shift with her  _ again,  _ which means she has to fend off the creepy Aglionby boys all by herself. 

She can’t quit the job, though, and most importantly, she can’t get out of here to find Adam Parrish and see if he’s alright. 

So she waits tables, carries toppling trays of pizza, refills cokes, tells off boys for their nasty comments, and keeps an eye on the back door for dusty hair and dusty skin smeared with engine grease. 

“God.” She hisses, setting down a pizza pan on the table of a particularly obnoxious group. 

“Excuse me?” Says one of them. He’s tan and tall and painfully good looking in a way that makes it obvious that he has been wealthy his entire life. 

The back door swings open and Adam, with his dusty hair and dusty skin smeared with engine grease, looking out of breath and frail and so, so tired. 

“Nothing.” Blue says to the boy, and strides off in Adam’s direction. 

She catches him in the break room that smells like pizza sauce and grease and sweat, putting on his apron.

“I was working on a car at Boyd’s and just lost track of time. It’s not a big deal, Blue.” Adam doesn’t look up while saying this, just ties the apron strings into a neat bow. His Henrietta accent rounds the statement. Makes it sound a little less bad.

Blue knows Adam did not lose track of time. Adam never loses track of time. 

Blue doesn’t say anything. Just stares at him until it’s a little uncomfortable, then turns on her heal to wait more tables. 

“Jeez, Blue.” Adam says. They managed to make it out of the break room, but only to the edge of the kitchen. “I just need the extra money. And it’s true that I lost track of time, I swear. Someone wrecked this real nice car, you know? And it was real fun fixing it and I-”

Someone is approaching them. A customer. The tan one with the wealth and the obnoxious friend and the ugly ass boat shoes. 

“Adam.” Blue says, and then to the boy, “This is a kitchen. You can’t just walk in here.”

The boy looks apologetic. Adam looks surprised. 

“Can we continue this out there, then?” His voice drips money and wealth and warmth. The practiced dialect of a politician, polished and smooth and charming. 

Blue stuffs her hands into the pocket of her apron. Grabs Adams arm from where he stands, gaping slightly at the crest on the boys Aglionby sweater, and yanks him to join the boy and Blue out in the public part of the restaurant. 

“How can we help you.” Blue demands. She doesn't like to come off friendly to anyone, especially not bastard raven boys. 

The boy does not seem phased. 

“My socially awkward friend Noah thinks you’re cute, but he’s unwilling to make a move. Over there. Not the sulky one.”

Blue looks to Adam. He  _ is _ the one the boy is addressing, after all. 

“Me?” Adam breathes. His voice sounds painfully southern then, painfully dirty, painfully  _ poor. _ Adam coughs, then straightens. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t. My shift does end in 2 hours, if you want to wait.” Blue looks at Adam harder. She does not think he wants the boy to wait for him.

Rich boy shakes his head defeatedly. 

“No, I do not think we will be around by then. Could you still swing by the table for a bit, just to say hello?”

Blue narrows her eyes.  _ Bastard. _

“He already said that we’re working.” The boy that Rich Boy had been referring too is staring at Adam with some disgusting look of attraction on his face. 

Rich Boy does not seem concerned. 

“I’ll take care of it. I can speak to your manager. How much do you make in an hour?”

Blue does not push down the anger inside of her. Adam looks a little confused. She pictures Adam, with his frail body and tired eyes, taking the money and waltzing on over to that table to go make awkward, half assed conversation with raven boys. Pictures never seeing Adam again, because suddenly,  _ they _ are his best friends. 

Blue is selfish. She knows that. But she is also sensible, and she also knows that raven boys are bastards, and some time ago, her and Adam, red clay coating their shoes, had promised to stay away from them. 

“We are not  _ prostitutes.” _ She hisses. Rich Boy looks shocked. 

_ Bastard.  _

“We have to work now.” Adam says carefully. The Henrietta accent is dulled a little, switched for some attempt at an all american one. “Have a nice rest of your evening.”

Rich Boy still looks shocked, but he walks back to his table and to his obnoxious friends. The sulky one is sneering, eyebrows drawn cruelly sharp. The other one gives a small shrug and wave to Adam, who just looks back at him.

Blue yanks him away.

God, Blue wants to get out of run down, loud Nino’s, out of run down, loud Henrietta, out of run down, loud Virginia. 

She looks at Adam, with the hollow cheeks and shaky hands and hungry eyes. With the week old yellowing bruises, the extra hours, the stash of crumpled bills she lets him keep in a box in the attic of 300 fox way. With his anger and stubbornness and fear.

God, she wants him out too. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adam is sick of longing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss Chick-fil-a waffle fries
> 
> heres a present cause im a writing maniac and have too much time on my hands and don't sleep when im supposed to be doing that

Adam is sick of longing.

Sick of wanting, craving, needing.

He wants too much for his wallet and Walmart t-shirts, too much for his dirty southern accent, too much for his hollow cheeks and too much for the whole damn world. 

He wants everything to stop. Just for a couple hours, just until he can catch his breath, just until his head stops throbbing, just until he actually feels well rested.

Maybe he’s just sick in general. His immune system has always been shit anyway. 

Blue is angry. She’s always angry. At her mother, at Adam, at raven boys. 

“I’ll take care of it.” She mimics, mouth turned down into a cruel frown. “God, what a jackass. Raven Boys are stupid about money.” 

Adam picks apart the knot in his apron string, then hangs it up on it’s hook. Nods once, then scratches the scab on his elbow. 

“I gotta get home, Blue. I’ll see you tomorrow at school, yeah?” Blue smiles. Soft. It’s the smile she only uses on him, worn edges and crinkled up eyes and showing eyeteeth. 

He does not know why that boy found Adam cute enough to get his friend to talk to him. He’s looked like living hell since the start of middle school. 

“See you, Parrish. Don’t kill yourself over that history paper.”

Adam snorts. 

“No promises, Sargent.”

They unchain their bikes from the rack together, and then pedal opposite ways into the night. 

Adam wonders if he could get lost in a world like this. Street lights and cicadas and broken up asphalt. Kudzoo turned scary in darkness, moon and stars and hunger. The chick-fil-a across from Nino’s hums with energy, fluorescent lighting seen from miles away. 

He thinks he could. A world of street lights and cicadas and broken up asphalt means a world without the double wide, a world without his parents, a world without the extra shifts and throb of exhaustion. A world of street lights and cicadas and broken up asphalt means Blue. 

He rides his bike until the asphalt turns to gravel and dust and sand, and then he walks his bike up the the double wide, chains his bike to the front steps railing, and steps inside. 

His father is asleep on the couch, head rested on the arm. His mother is in the kitchen, glass of water or vodka or something clear halfway to her, small, chaped, pursed lips. 

“Adam.” She says. Her voice is a hair above whispering, just so Adam can hear it from the door without waking up Robert. “Your father will be upset when he finds out you came home late tonight.” 

Adam is very aware of how he’s nothing if not his mother. The sharp edges, the worn hands, the rings of purple-black beneath the eyes. Everything down to the slow Henrietta accent, down to the dust colored hair, down to the quiet resignation of someone who knows their place. (Poor as dirt, a stepping stool.)

(Adam’s anger is from his father. It terrifies him.)

“I was working.” He says. He should know better. He knows his parents don’t care where he is, just care about the fact that he could be out there, becoming human and living and everything they hate. 

He goes to bed. Doesn’t bother showering, even though he smells like garlic and pizza sauce. 

God, he’s a mess. He’ll clean himself up in the morning, before his shift at the factory. 

He lays on his scratchy mattress, with the scratchy blankets and scratchy sheets and flat pillow and stares up at the ceiling until it all blurs together and he finally goes to sleep.

“He called for a fucking reading.” Blue says, reaching into the fridge for a yogurt. Adam sits at the kitchen table of 300 Fox Way. His cheek hurts. His father woke him up this morning and decided that even though he wasn’t awake for it, Adam should get punished for being late. (Even though he wasn’t. His father was just angry for no reason.) 

“Who?” He jokes, even though he feels miserable and pathetic and worthless. 

“Asshole. I know you remember.” Blue mutters, rummaging around for a spoon. “Gansey. The guy I’m supposed to kill. Or fall in love with. Preferably the first one.” 

Adam drops his head into his arms. Blue sits across from him.

“You okay, man?”

Adam groans.

“Yeah.” He picks his head back up, and focuses on Blue and her neon colored clips. Narrows her eyes at the speed she is eating the yogurt cup. “Anyway. Gansey. When’s he coming by?”

The reading does not start out well. 

Gansey is Rich Boy from Nino’s, no less presidential, no less tan and wealthy and  _ Aglionby _ . 

The people he brings for the reading are his friends from Nino’s. One, sharp and pointy and angry, the other enthusiastic and smiling and apparently, gay for Adam. 

“What happened to your face?” The pointy one asks Adam. His eyes are dangerous. Cold. There is something enthralling and scary about them, like a siren singing a sailor to a watery death. 

“None of your business.” Blue says for him, standing just as cold and just as angry in the corner of the reading room. 

Gansey seems perplexed by this interaction. 

“Hello. I’m Gansey, and this is Noah and Ronan. Where do you want us?”

“There.” Maura says with a wave of her hand to the table. “This is my daughter Blue and her friend Adam Parrish. If you don’t mind, they’ll be joining us for the reading.”

“Hi again.” He says, smiling at Blue, and then at Adam. “This is awkward.”

Maura’s look of disgust is similar to her daughters, nose wrinkled up, corners of her mouth turned down. 

“You’ve met?” Maura asks. Blue turns to respond, but Adam stops her. He knows about Raven Boys and just how little Maura trusts them. 

“Work. They were customers at Nino’s.”

Blue rolls her eyes at him. Adam isn’t quite sure what for. 

“Yeah, the ones that were harassing Adam. I told you about them.”

Gansey looks a mix of very, very upset and very, very shocked. 

“I did not  _ harass _ him. It was very civil, I assure you!” Gansey’s voice is rising a little in volume. His pointy friend, Ronan is sneering. He locks eyes with Adam and holds it until Adam looks down to his sneakers. 

“You offered to  _ pay _ him to talk to your friend!” Blue snaps back.

“ _ I need everyone to sit down!”  _ Maura shouts. Adam has never heard her raise her voice, and from the looks of it, Blue hasn’t either. 

They all sit except for Calla and Ronan, equally pointy and equally snake-like. 

Maura sighs, then sits herself. 

“It is too damn loud in here.” 

Adam watches as Blue wavers, flitting from Angry Blue to Worried Blue, forehead scrunching up.

“Do you need me to leave?” 

“No!” Adam, Maura and Gansey snap together. Blue eyes Adam in a way that seems that she is very amused by his response. 

“One offs.” Maura says. “Lets go. Blue, you deal. Adam, either quit looking so damn awkward over there or make us some tea.” Adam looks to Blue, who shrugs, then shuffles the deck of tarot cards and begins to fan them out. 

“You.” Maura says, gesturing at Noah. “You are going first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...bruh im sick and can't breathe  
sorry for that begining note and also sorry for my unability to deal with dialogue without it being crazy awkward  
anyway hope you likey  
again  
i might jsut end every chapter with that


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ve heard about barrington whelk now get ready for warrington bhelk.  
Also uhm for my own personal reasons, Noah is the same age as the rest of them cause otherwise,,, uh weird

Barrington Whelk hates his job. 

He used to be a king, practically. Used to be wealthy and attractive and young. Well rounded, well liked, well rested. 

He’s stuck now, living in a converted dorm, single and sad and not so young or wealthy anymore. 

Girls don’t like him very much anymore. One once described him as ‘scraggly’.

He is ‘scraggly’. He only showers once a week.

Whelk would not have hated to have gone to Aglionby as a student instead of Prinolawdy Academy, infamous for arson and exceedingly ridiculous pronunciation.

Half of his expensive boarding school education was on how to get girls and how to properly crash a car in ways that actually get it to blow up like in the movies. Aglionby seems to actually try to teach something to the students, no matter whether or not the students actually want to be taught. 

He is here for the ley line, though. Not here to get attached to the school or the little squirrel that likes to hang out outside his window. Not here for the gossip that the rest of the teachers are obsessed with. He is here for the ley line, for Cabeswater, for his wealth and status and youth to be restored. 

Whelk moved for this. Worked his ass off to get a job at the same school that Dick 3 goes to, just so he could follow his findings on the ley line. He is currently teaching highschool latin to impatient rich boys for this.

He has learned a lot. Because of Richard Campbell Gansey III, he has learned of Glendower. Learned of the favor. Learned of the physics of 300 Fox Way. 

It is not enough. He needs more. 

He needs to wake the ley line. 

He needs that favor.

He needs Richard Campbell Gansey III, with his ridiculously posh name and his ridiculously posh voice.

He needs that notebook.

He’ll settle for a tarot reading for now instead.

Barrington Whelk rings the doorbell of 300 Fox way with a very clear picture in his head of who is going to answer it. He does not expect 6 feet of attitude and tan skin wrapped into nothing but some too-tight shorts and a lacy bra. 

“You got an appointment?” The girl asks, snapping her gum once and leaning on the door frame. 

Some time ago, this would have been the kind of girl Whelk would have dated. Fire and hard liquor, snappy remarks. He tries not to look at anything but her face.

“No.” 

The girl sighs, checks her watch then sighs again. 

“ _ Maura! _ ” she shouts into the house, then looks him over. “I’m Orla.”

“Okay.”

Another woman appears at the doorway, holding a light bulb in her hands. Looks him over, not unlike the way Orla did second ago. 

“We’ll do a triple reading.”

Noah Czerny is alive. Alive and young and so very, very energetic. He likes to skateboard and draw, likes glitter, likes pranks and jokes and laughing until his stomach hurts. He likes adventure and searching for Glendower, and he likes the idea of Blue Sargent and Adam Parrish, poor as dirt, witty as hell, and not taking any shit from anyone, not even Gansey. He likes the idea of more friends in their circle, more people to hang out with, more stories, more ideas, more love all the way around. 

So he calls 300 fox way, asks for Blue or Adam, and gets them both. 

“Hello?” The voice is honey sweet, local, and male. Adam. 

“Uh, hi. This is Noah, from the reading. And well, also Nino’s, but I’d like to forget about that.” There is some rustiling on the other line, and then the voice switches from Adam’s to an angry one that can only be Blue’s. 

“What do you want. You better not be asking Adam out on a date, cause the answer to that will be no.” 

Noah has kind of gathered that Adam and Blue are a thing by now. It’s evident in Blue’s protectiveness over Adam, and just their closeness in general. 

Noah laughs.

“Oh no. I just wanted to invite you two out with us to uhm. Explore.” Noah watches Ronan stiffen beside him, then turn his head towards Noah. He looks a little murderous. Noah laughs again.

“Explore where?” It’s Blue still. At least she sounds a little intrigued and isn’t turning it down completely. 

Noah watches Gansey putter around mini Henrietta and smiles. Slow.

“The ley line. What do you know about Welsh kings?”

“Nothing.” It’s Adam again. He sounds less southern than he did at the reading, like he’s dampening his accent to sound at least a little more professional. 

“Well, Gansey will fix that. How do you feel about helicopters?”

“Never been in one.” 

“Well, Gansey will fix that, too. I’ll come get you at 4. Sound good?”

“Uhm.” Adam says.

Noah ends the call. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh don’t get me started on prinolawdy academy i made that up on the top of my head thanks brain love you too not like that name will haunt me in my sleep


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's starting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here you have it, a chapter about jealousy, people thinking adam and blue are dating, and pettiness over arm rests

Noah, surprisingly, is on time, which is not a common trait in Raven Boys. 

They can see him walking up the hill, blond hair white and blinding in the sun. He looks painfully bright here, on the side of town littered with trash and kudzu, humming with cicadas and crickets and Virginia Magpies. 

“This is weird.” Adam says to Blue, fidgeting with the fraying end of his jeans. They’re sitting on the front steps of 300 Fox Way. “That we’re doing this. We usually hate this.”

Blue shrugs. She does not know why Adam was so insistent on hanging out with these raven boys, only to just complain about it a couple hours later. 

Well, not really complain. Adam doesn’t complain too much. 

“I’ve never been in a helicopter before.” Adam says, slowly, like he’s trying to think of interesting things to say while they wait. Blue laughs, long and loud.

“Idiot.” She smacks him over the head. It’s not light, but Adam grins at her. “No sane person has. Helicoptering is not a thing.”

“For Aglionby boys it is, apparently. Now shut up, he’s basically here.” Blue stands up, shoving her hands into the pocket of her dress. Noah bounds up the stairs to meet them. Puppy like. He’s got a huge grin on his face that can’t help but make Blue smile a little. Noah is some sort of breed of raven boy that Blue is okay with, one without the flaunting of money or the obnoxious, old money, condescending voice. He seems normal. Like he could actually go to public school and survive. 

“Ready to go?” He says.

“Yeah.” 

As it turns out, where Noah, Gansey and Ronan live is the old manufacturing building that Blue bikes past every morning on her way to meet Adam so they can bike to school. It is a very Aglionby place to live. She wasn’t invited inside, but Blue can only imagine the chaos- dirty laundry everywhere and 20 dollar bills coating the ground like snow. 

Noah leads her and Adam around the back to the large overgrown parking lot, where a BMW, a bright red Mustang, and Gansey’s obnoxiously orange Camaro sit idly. Beside the cars, blades spinning like a ceiling fan, sits a larger than life helicopter, shiny new and deafening. 

“Jesus.” Adam says beside her. The sound of the word gets swept by the helicopter, but she knows what he means. She half expected it not to be real, just some overly extravagant plan made by Noah, equally extravagant, to get Blue and Adam to hang out with them. 

Gansey approaches them, smile miles wide. His outfit is worse than the Aglionby uniform. He’s still wearing those god awful boat shoes. 

He bumps fists with Noah, then looks over Blue and Adam. 

“Tagging along?” He asks, smiling. The top button of his mustard yellow polo is undone, revealing evenly tan skin. Blue looks away. 

“Yes. Noah said something about Welsh kings on the phone.” Gansey laughs, but not in an unfriendly way. Blue watches as Adam frowns slightly, like he doesn’t know what Gansey finds so funny. 

“I’ll explain in there.” He gestures to the helicopter. Holds out a fist for Adam to bump, too. Adam looks at it very hard, which makes Blue smile, because overanalyzing this is a very Adam Parrish thing to do. Adam knocks his knuckles and smiles, tentative. 

Good. Blue takes back the thoughts of not wanting to share Adam with these strangers. Because Gansey, with the old money accent and the firm handshake, and Noah, with the goofy smile and skateboard strapped to his bag, might be Blue and Adam’s way out of this hellhole.

Blue’s not sure about Ronan yet. She doesn’t like the looks of that bird. 

Ronan Lynch does not like this. 

He does not like flying or Helen. He doesn’t like Gansey’s tireless searching for the ley line, doesn’t like his obsession with Glendower. 

Most of all, though, he does not like Adam Parrish. 

Blue is fine. He can get behind her, with the icy stares and loyalty and ability to get Gansey to shut his mouth. 

He cannot get behind Adam Parrish, because he always has that god awful kicked puppy look on his face. Because he barely ever speaks for himself, and because right now, his knuckles are white against Ronan’s arm rest, gripping it like  _ that _ is what will save his life if this thing crashes. 

Ronan just wants his arm rest back. 

“Hey, Adam.” He says into the headset. Adam looks at him, eyes a little wide, mouth in a tight line. If Ronan didn’t know better, he’d think that Adam was scared of him.

He doesn’t know better. It would make sense if Adam was. 

“Arm rest.”

He's feeling petty. Adam Parrish brings out the worst in him. 

White knuckles release Ronan’s arm rest, and instead go reaching for Sargent’s hands as an alternative. 

Ronan is not sure if he likes that any better. 

Parrish and Sargent make a sickening couple. It’s all bumping elbows and secrets smiles and messing up each others hair. It’s intimate, carefully so, in a way that means that they know each other and  _ fit _ . 

He takes off his headset, because Helen and Gansey are arguing about glassware. Looks out the window. He tries to ignore that Adams white rimmed hands are in Blues, shoulder against hers, watching as she points something out down below in the expanse of green that is Henrietta. God. 

Ronan checks his cell for service. He needs to text Kavinsky. 

He’s definitely going racing tonight. 

They land 15 feet away from the raven’s heart. 

It’s quiet. Quiet in a way that deep south forests are not. No crickets and cicadas, no cracking of branches from bugs or mice or god knows what else. Just water and birds. Noah looks to Gansey. He has a smile too big for his features plastered over his face. From someone one who didn’t know him, he would look crazed, but Noah just knows that this is Gansey, blood fast and hot from being excited and painfully close.

They  _ are _ close. Noah can feel it. IT’s something in the pit of his stomach, something in the rustling of the leaves, something in the smell of the knee high grass they’re standing in. 

“ _ ARE YOU LISTENING, GLENDOWER? I AM COMING TO FIND YOU!” _

Noah can’t help but smile. There is something in Gansey’s voice. Finality. They are so close and they know it. It's something in Blue and Adam, the raven carved into Henrietta, the smile on Gansey's face, arms outstretched, face tilted toward the sky. 

It’s starting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i picture 300 fox way as the house in the goonies


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not ask me how the hell I wrote this so fast 
> 
> BLUE AND ADAM ARE FRIENDS WHO HOLD HANDS DO NOT TELL ME ITS ROMANTIC NO ITS JUST PEOPLE BEING IN PLATONIC LOVE LET THERE BE THAT

There are oyster shells littered on the ground. EMF and no cell service, the stopping of Adams watch. Music in the trees.

It’s starting. 

Adam does not like this forest. 

It does not make much sense, and Adam does not happen to like things that don’t make sense. 

He has been around amazing things since he met Blue and her family. This is something else. This is not just the expected obsession of a wealthy raven boy.

This is magic. The tangible stuff, the kind that Adam cannot dismiss as a slight of hand or coincidence because this is  _ real _ , and it is right in front of him. 

“Adam.” Ronan says, gesturing for him to follow. Adam pries his hand from Blues, and follows. Only because Noah is with him too, and even if he doesn’t know him that well, Adam sure as hell trusts Noah more than Ronan. 

“Check this out.” 

It’s a tree. A hollowed out one, with a big enough cavity to fit Ronan. The bark is rough and dry, black and diseased. Adam does not know much about plants, but he does not think this tree should still be standing. 

“What.” Adam snaps. Ronan is sneering, and Adam does not like that look. It’s shark-like, pointy. Dangerous. 

“Jesus, Parrish. Chill out. Just thought this was cool.”

Everything about Ronan is shark-like, pointy and dangerous. His hair, this car, his face, his voice. Adam remembers Calla’s voice at the reading.

“ _ A secret killed your father, and you know what it was.” _

Ronan is a boy made of fire and glass. 

“What, a dead tree? Real fucking cool. Leave me alone.” Adam wants to wince at the voice that comes out of him. Snappy and angry and tight and forcefull and  _ local _ . 

Adam turns to leave, to return to Gansey, who is harmless, and Blue, who loves him like a brother. People who are not made of fire and glass. He can feel Ronan’s stare against him, sharp and heavy and angry. 

Adam is not so sure if he likes Noah so much. He is just sort of standing there, staring at the tree. 

“I’m going inside.” Noah says suddenly, pushing past Ronan and into the hollow of the tree. 

“Weirdo.” Ronan spits, finally looking away from Adam. “What the hell do you think it is? Some weird ass magic thing? Dude, you heard Parrish. It’s a dead tree.”

Noah does not respond. His eyes are closed, forehead wrinkled in distress. Like something in his head is painful. 

“Noah.” Ronan says, striding forward. Noah still does not respond. With no gentleness to it, Ronan grabs Noah's arm and uses it to yank him out.

Noah’s eyes snap open. Lock into Adams. His hands are shaking. 

“Go in there. Please tell me I’m not making this up.”

Adam looks once to Ronan, the cruel set of this mouth, the sharp eyebrows, the sharp nose, the sharp voice. Ronan sneers again. He seems to like that expression. 

Adam steps inside the tree. Closes his eyes.

He does not notice anything at first. He can feel the closeness of the tree around him. It does not smell like a tree should, though. It smells like alcohol and something metallic.

Adam, carefully, unsure of what he might see, opens his eyes.

He is not in the tree anymore. 

His father is by his feet. Lying there, unmoving. Bloody and bleeding and choking on it. 

Something drops out of Adams hands, heavy. It hits the ground with a metal clank. Adam looks down.

A gun. 

Very suddenly, Adam is kneeling over his father, smearing his own hands in his blood, trying to press the blood back into his chest. It is not working. His father is not moving. Not breathing. Not yelling, not drinking, not beating. 

His father is dead.

His father is dead, and Adam just shot him. 

“No.” Adam says, once. It feels like an ending. This is not how things should have gone. Adam was to leave when he was 18, off to university with Blue. 

His father is dead. 

Adam looks up, and his mother is sobbing, hand clenched tightly around the phone. Adam can hear the sirens in the distance. He can imagine the disappointment on Blue’s face. 

His father is dead, and Adam just shot him. 

Adam opens his eyes.

He is back in the tree. It does not have the metallic smell of blood, or the heavy stench of alcohol. It smells like moss and earth and dirt.

“Fuck.” Adam says. He has to get out.

_ He shot his father. _

“Fuck.” He says again, stumbling out of the tree and into Ronan, who steadies him. God, Adam thinks his heart is beating out of his chest. 

_ They know. It’s written all over his face. How terrible he is. _

He shoves himself away from Ronan. Wraps his arms around himself like that will keep him together. 

“Fuck.” He says one last time. “Blue.”

He lurches toward where they left Blue and Gansey. 

“Hello.” Gansey says, looking up from where he and Blue are standing, examining the pool of fish. “I do not think these fish are real.”

Adam ignores that. He doesn’t know what that means. He pushes Gansey out of the way and latches onto Blue like his life depends on it. 

“Please tell me I’m not fucking insane.” 

He leads Blue back to the tree, shoves her inside. 

He does not like the way Ronan or Noah or Gansey are looking at him.

“Shut your eyes. Please tell me I’m not insane.”

Blue does.

Something in her face changes. It is not the confusion she had been wearing before. 

Adam presses his fingernails against his arm.

_ Does this mean the future? Is this what is supposed to happen? _

Blue is crying. Eyes closed. 

Adam does not know what this all means. 

The forest seems more dangerous now. Less magic and more scary. 

Blue steps out of the tree. Tears cling to her chin. 

“Well?” Gansey asks. 

“It’s… something.” She does not elaborate, and so Gansey takes her space in the tree. Shuts his eyes. 

Adam yanks Blue to the side. Wipes the tears off her cheeks. 

“What did you see?” Adam is aware he is shaking. He tries to stop it. 

He can’t.

Blue looks soft. None of the rock hard defenses thrown up, none of the attitude, none of the suspicion. Just Blue, his best friend, his sister, his anchor in this town. Just Blue, who he met in second grade after Adam’s bike broke on the way to school. Just Blue. Just Blue is what Adam needs right now. 

“Later.” She whispers, then turns them around to face Gansey and the tree. 

Gansey looks ethereal. A humbled king.

His eyes open.

Blue steps forward.

“What did you see?” Gansey cocks his head in an odd, mechanical sort of way. The grin on his face does not fit this situation.

“I saw Glendower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B they buds but not really cause ish hasn’t happened  
Ronan and Adam will be okay and become buddies in the next chapter I think  
Also fun fact when reading the raven boys this is what I thought Adam saw  
I thought Adam saw him killing his dad  
Whoops I’m a terrible person but whatever


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan is staring at Adam and Adam happens to be staring back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pynch went from -3 to 10 whoops I hope your happy

They go out for gelato. Giddy and anxious and shaky. Rough around the edges. 

They go out for gelato, made of laughter and gold and impossible things. 

Ronan does not cry like Noah does, does not laugh until not being able to breathe like Blue. 

He just watches. Smiles. 

Watches Adam watch, too. 

He had never thought that this is what following Gansey’s crazy, obsessive crusade would entail. 

It feels good. Feels like an ending before the real one, happier than the one to come.

(He knows that this won't end well. Nothing ever does.)

They go out for gelato, made of laughter and gold and impossible things. Made of car headlights and stars, made of earth and dreams and magic. 

They laugh until their stomachs hurt. Eat until they can’t.

There is a finality in it. Ronan knows that this is not over, but it feels like it should be. This is what Gansey was looking for. What he wanted. This is it.

It’s finally starting. 

The night is winding down. There is less adrenaline about it now, more tired yawns and tired eyes and tired bones. Still happy, though. Just not as loud about it.

Blue and Gansey and Noah are giving Blue a ride home. It feels weird without them. Too silent. To dulled down.

Adam Parrish is sitting across from Ronan Lynch, and Ronan is staring. He does not look away, because Adam is staring back.

“Feeling weird without your girlfriend, Parrish?” Ronan says, lips quirking up into something menacing. Adam looks at him for a bit.

“We’re not dating, Blue and I. Just close.”

“You sure do touch a lot.” Ronan says, fishing his wallet and keys from his pocket. “I’ll pay.”

Adam frowns.

“I can cover me and Blue’s.”

Adam Parrish is sitting across from Ronan, and Ronan is staring.

Adam Parrish is staring back. 

“Sorry about that whole tree thing today.” Adam says. Soft. Ronan used to think that everything about Adam was soft except for his features.

Ronan hums. Thinks about Adam, breathing heavily, like someone does when waking from a nightmare. Crashing into him, pulse heavy and fast underneath Ronan’s hands. Stumbling off to get Blue. 

“What’d you see?”

Adam shrugs.

“Noah saw some motherfucker beating his head in with a skateboard.” Ronan laughs. “How weird is that?” 

Adam shrugs again. He is not staring at Ronan anymore. He’s focussing on the wad of bills he had unearthed from pocket to pay for him and Blue. 

“Will you give me a ride home? I left my bike at Blue’s.”

They pay. Step into the night, backlit by the neon and fluorescent lights of the gelato shop. Creatures of the stars and the black and the cosmos. 

Ronan helps Adam into the car. Everything feels quiet. Awkward in a way that's not, silences filled with thoughts about Glendower and the trees and what this means for them all.

“Where do you live?”

“Antietam Lane.” It’s quiet again. Ronan drives. In the night, he can understand Gansey’s love for Henrietta. Everything is better at night. 

“It’s in a trailer park.” Adam says, loudly flatly, like his mouth spoke faster than his brain could stop it. “Just so you know. I don’t want you to be surprised.”

Ronan is not. 

Blue and Adam, poor as dirt, witty as hell. Made of the same impossible stuff. Ronan knows what Noah means. He likes the idea of them, too. 

Ronan drives. Does not focus on Adam beside him, because Adam Parrish is a rarity, and Ronan Lynch finds himself all too attracted to that. 

He pulls into Antietam Lane, gravel crunching underneath the wheels of the BMW. 

“You can let me out here.” Adam says, softly, hand on the door handle. 

Ronan pulls the car to a stop. Watches Adam Parrish climb out and up to the double wide 3 down. The lights flick on, and Ronan can make out the shape of Adam and his father. 

He does not watch long. The lights flick off. 

Ronan pulls out of the trailer park. Heads back to Monmouth. 

That night, he dreams of Adam Parrish staring back at him. Dreams of Adam Parrish, crashing into him, looking like he just saw the end of the world. Dreams of Glendower and the trees, of ravens cycling overhead. 

When Ronan wakes up, Adam’s faded Coca Cola shirt is waded into his hands, crumpled and wrinkled and soft. 

Adam Parrish, poor as dirt, witty as hell, a mystery of day old bruises and shaky hands. 

Ronan shoves the t-shirt into his bottom drawer. 

Ronan Lynch had stared at Adam Parrish, and Adam Parrish had stared back. 

It had felt scary good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Won’t be able to update as often cause I have stuff to do now but here’s something to keep you occupied haha


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya

“It all feels very sudden.” Adam tells Blue while they wait for Gansey to pick them up in the Pig from school. 

“What?” Blue asks. She’s wearing a blue dress Adam is fairly sure is made of an old blanket. 

“This. Glendower. Gansey and Ronan and Noah. I don’t know.”

Blue turns to him, mouth turns up into a smile, round and happy and so big and vibrant it does not seem like Blue at all. 

“It’s nice.” She says. “They’re nice.” 

Adam laughs. It surprises both him and Blue. 

“You’re only saying that because you’re in love with Gansey.” He says. Blue looks even more surprised, and then she smacks the back of his head.

“Smart ass. You think so too cause you’re in love with-”

The Pig pulls up, so orange and clean it nearly hurts Adam to look at. God, his ears are burning. 

“Jane! Adam!” Gansey shouts, rolling down the window. “We’re going back to the wood! Hop in!” 

Blue can feel Adam’s heart beat from where her head is resting on his shoulder. Ronan is playing some terrible EDM music, smile manic and a little nervous. They all are. Adam’s heart is beating unreasonably fast, and his knuckles are white. 

Blue wonders what he saw in that tree. They never got to tell each other. 

It takes longer to get there than it did in the helicopter. Once Ronan shuts off the music, Blue can hear Noah humming under his breath. 

It’s not usually this quiet. Usually they are messes of curses and laughter and sweaty hands. (At least Adam. Adam’s hands are always cold and clammy or dry and rough, but Blue doesn’t mind because her hands are probably gross too.)

In the cover of overcast weather, the forest looks less friendly. 

It is 4:13. They walk into the forest. 

It’s darker. The creeks shallower. It smells like must and decay and less like magic. They walk and walk and walk until the leaves turn from green to orange.

“Gansey!” Noah calls from up ahead. “There’s writing over here!”

Blue cannot get rid of the feeling that they are being watched. 

The writing is uneven and messy, scribbled on a rock outcropping. 

“It’s Latin.” Ronan drawls, and Blue watches Adam’s eyes dart up to Ronan’s. 

“Crappy Latin.” He continues. “The first part is a joke. The grammar’s all wrong.”

Adam reaches over for Blue’s hands, and his hands are clammier than usual. 

“Why is there Latin on a rock? Doesn’t matter if it’s a joke or not.” He says. Ronan does not look up. Just traces the words on the rock. 

“There’s a joke,” Ronan’s voice is careful. If Blue didn’t know better, she would say scared. “In case I didn’t recognize my own handwriting.”

A bird sings in the distance. 

“I don’t understand.”

Gansey reassures them all with the forests idea of time, how it’s all twisted and warped. 

Blue wonders when the Blue in the tree fell in love with him. Was it now? Was it via long walks trying to find Glendower, sharing old takeout in Monmouth?

“What does it say after the joke?” Blue asks. Steps closer. 

“Arbores loqui latine. The trees speak Latin.” 

A grin is rising on Gansey’s face, boyish and thrilling.

Blue does not like how pretty his eyes look in this light, all autumn oranges and browns and yellows. 

“And the last line?” He asks. Blue looks away. She thinks Adam caught her looking. 

“Nomine appellant. Call it by name.” Ronan pauses. The wind tickles the back of Blue’s hair, eerie. “Cabeswater.”

It is Sunday. That means that 300 Fox Way is less chaotic as most everyone has gotten into the habit of sleeping until 3. 

These are Blue’s days. Ones where the house is hers and quiet, none of the whirlwind of noise surrounding the house. These are her nothing days, where she doesn’t search for Glendower or have work or even see Adam (though that’s mainly because he works 4 jobs on the weekend). 

She’s heating up some bagel bites in the 9 year old microwave when the physic help line phone rings. 

“Hello?” she says. The words taste funny in her mouth.

“Is this Blue? It’s Gansey. I was. I was well, wondering if you wanted to help me explore the area around the church. Ronan and Noah are off somewhere, and I know Adam’s working. You were the only person left.”

Blue feels something rise in her. She is not entirely sure what it is, either. It is stuff like this that she wishes Adam was here for, just so he could smirk or roll his eyes or give strangely good advice. 

“Okay.” She says. 

Gansey picks her up in the Pig, then drives to the church, windows rolled down. They talk about school and clothes and everything in between and after and before. Gansey worries about Glendower and Ronan and Blue listens. (I don’t know what it’ll be like when we find Glendower. I’m half scared of what we’ll find.) (I feel like it was my destiny to meet Ronan and worry about him.)

Blue worries about Adam. Gansey listens to that, too. (Last week he passed out at Boyd’s. I had to pick him up and then he slept for an entire day.)

They talk about bees and epipens, about magic and longing. About favors and fate. 

Blue likes this Gansey better. Likes the one whose mouth won't stop moving, who doesn’t offer to pay, who likes ridiculously colored polo shirts. She likes the dimples and the worried eyes, the striding and the bigger than life smile. 

Blue Sargent does not fall in love. She is against everything about it, the attachment to something other than herself. 

So, she is not in love with Richard Campbell Gansey III, no matter how much he makes her laugh. 

That doesn’t mean that Blue wouldn’t give anything to kiss him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am very unhappy with this :(


	8. Chapter eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cabeswater more like FLYSWATTER sorry i know my notes are a fucking mess also this is the longest fic ive written whoops

Barrington Whelk is close.

He can feel it. 

Dick and his band of merry men can feel it too, judging by the jittery way they’re all acting. 

Something’s happening, stirring in woods. The ley line.

He can feel it. 

He’s driving down the interstate, radio playing some terrible, late night talk show. The host is going on and on about seizing the moment, going for it, putting yourself out there.

He hates it. 

Whelk used to be a king. The absence of that is so strong it hurts. 

There is something obnoxious colored off in the shoulder, the muddled brown of a car that is some loud shade of orange without the cover of night. 

Whelk knows that car. It is Gansey’s car that he totes his friends along in, Lynch, Czerny, the trailer trash and his girlfriend. 

He pulls over, switches off the talk show, and rifles through the glovebox for the gun. 

Seize the moment, indeed. 

Gansey looks relieved when Whelk emerges from his own car, which is a lot more normal and a lot less expensive. 

Whelk used to be him. Loved and worshiped like a god on earth.

Whelk wants that. 

Needs it. 

“I want that book of yours.” He says. His voice does not shake like it does in the movies. “Your cellphone, too.”

Gansey looks confused, young and naive and very, very afraid of the gun Whelk is pointing at him.

He’s so close.

He can feel it. 

“Well.” Gansey says, barely audible over the sound of the engine Whelks car. “Okay.” He reaches for the trunk of the car, and Whelk shoves the gun closer to his face. 

“Don’t take off in that. And tell me where you’ve been all week. I know you’ve found something.” 

Gansey moves to retrieve the journal between the stacks of pizza boxes and their receipts.

He does not answer. 

Whelk takes the safety off and presses the barrell to Gansey’s head. Watches as his eyes widen in fear, watches his chest hitch. 

Good.

“Tell me where you’ve been.”

“Up the mountains near Nethers.” He says quickly.

Good. Everything is falling into place.

Whelk needs that journal. Gansey hands it to him.

It feels right in Whelks hands. 

This is what he needs.

He’s so close.

He can feel it. 

They stand there. Quiet in a world of headlights and overpasses, of blood and bullets and death.

Whelk used to be a king. He does not plan on not being one ever again. 

And then, very suddenly, the gun is out of his hand. 

It takes him a second to realize what has happened. And when he does, he is just a little too late in diving for the gun. Gansey is kicking at him. His arm and then his chest. 

Something hurts. 

He is so close. 

Gansey has run somewhere, off into the black. If he’s off in the woods, Whelk knows that he cannot find him in this light. Headlights shine on him and he runs back to his car, and skids from the shoulder of the road back onto the highway, back towards Henrietta.

He is so close. 

He can feel it.

He pictures Gansey’s face under his gun and swears. That boy will try and fight him, he knows, but he also knows that he will come out on top. 

The notebook weighs heavy in his lap. 

Tomorrow, this will end. Tomorrow, this will all be set right. 

He calls Neeve.

Gansey sits at the kitchen table of 300 fox way, thumb throbbing, head throbbing. He feels different. Blue, Ronan and Noah sit across from him. Adam is helping with the tea. 

He never did think that he could die from something other than just bees, and that thought terrifies him. 

“Whelk tried to kill me.” He says again. The phrase feels oddly good. Like the finality of it will help him wrap his head around it.

Adam places some terrible smelling tea in front of him. He looks up at Maura.

“You lied to me about the ley line.”

“I didn’t lie, per say-”

Gansey cuts her off. He feels a thousand times older.

“It’s okay. But tell me now, because Whelks after it too, and tonight he tried to kill me.”

She looks shocked. 

Tonight, he could have died.

“How was I supposed to know it would be important?” She says, then shakes her head and continues. “Do you think he still has interest in you?” 

“He wants Glendower. He wants the ley line. He wants Cabeswater.”

“I think we should wake it up.” Neeve says, serene. Gansey turns, examining her.

“I think,” He says evenly, “I think we should learn more about Cabeswater. Focus on that and Glendower.”

“What about Whelk?” Adam asks, taking a sip of his own tea. He frowns, then sets it on the counter next to where he leans. 

“I don’t know.” Gansey says. He looks down into his cup. “I’m going back to Cabeswater. I’m getting my notebook back.” Ronan is a rigid statue in front of him, mouth set in a hard line.

Gansey will check on him after this. Just to see if he’s okay. He wasn’t lying when he said to Blue that he thought his destiny was to meet Ronan and worry about him.

“You guys don’t have to come. I don’t want to be responsible for you getting hurt.”

Blue folds her arms and looks at her mother. Shifts her gaze back to Gansey. 

“I’ll help.”

Adam refuses Ronan’s offer of a ride and bikes home instead. 

  
  



	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shit show I need sleep

Blue should be used to late night phone calls. Used to the helpline ringing until well past 12. 

She should also be used to not being able to sleep.

Her brain is on hyperdrive, thinking about Gansey with a gun held to his forehead, with a bullet in his brain, laying dead on the shoulder of the highway. 

So when the phone rings, all Blue thinks is  _ Gansey. _

She does not expect Adam Parrish.

“Blue?” Adam’s voice is quiet on the other line. Desperate and a little sluggish. 

Blue sits up. Something about that voice sets off alarms in her head. Something is wrong. She can feel it. 

“Adam?”

It is quiet, for a long, long time.

“I need you to pick me up.” Adam’s voice is getting shakier. A soft hiss.

“What happened, Adam? God, what did he do?” She stands up and tries to walk down the stairs to get Persephone, but the cord of the phone keeps her stationary. 

“He beat me real bad, Blue. Everythings all wrong.”

“How bad is it?” Her heart is a pounding, sloppy mess in her chest. She does not want to try and imagine it.

“They’re asleep. I think he may have done something permanent this time, Blue.” He falters. The softness of his Henrietta accent is ever present now.

The phone clicks off.

Blue runs to get Persephone. They take the car.

Blue calls Gansey from Persephone’s phone. Calls Ronan and when he doesn’t pick up, then calls Gansey again. He picks up this time on the 3rd ring.

“Adam.” She breathes into the phone, desperate.

“Sorry, Jane. Not Adam. Gansey. Who’s phone is this, anyway?” He laughs on the other line. This feels wrong. Painfully so. Persephone begins to drive a little faster.

“No no no no. Something happened to Adam. I’m picking him up. Please meet us at the hospital. Bring Ronan and Noah.”

The other line is silent. 

“What happened.” This is business Gansey. The presidential one. 

“His dad-” Blue cuts off because her voice is turning into a desperate whine. Turning into nothing but panic and fear and shaky hands. 

Blue does not cry. 

Adam’s voice from his phone call echoes in her ears.

_ “I think he might have done something permanent, Blue.”  _

Blue Sargent does not know what that means.

Persephone pulls onto Adams street, and vaguely,  _ vaguely,  _ she can make out the figure of Adam Parrish slumped up against the front steps.

“Should I go?” Gansey asks. Blue had forgotten that he was still there at all. 

“No!” Blue snaps. She feels like the world is ending. She doesn't know what she will find when she retrieves Adam Parrish.

“I just- I just need you to-“ her breath is hitching and they’re in front of Adams double wide. It is too dark to determine anything.

“It’s okay, Blue.” Gansey whispers. 

Blue opens the car door. 

_ “I think he might have done something permanent, Blue.”  _

She sprints up to the stoop, secures her hands on Adam, just to see if he’s breathing, if he’s real, if he’s going to make it.

“Adam!” She shouts, maybe a little too loud. His eyes are closed. 

They do not open. 

He groans. Long and low.

Blue cannot see the full damage in the dull glow of the headlights, but she can see enough.

His cheek is raised, red and angry and painful. 

Half his face is bloody. Blue does not know where it’s coming from.

“Oh god. Adam. Come on, get up, dammit. ” She feels catastrophic. The world is ending. (It is, it is, it is, it is.  _ “I think he might have done something permanent, Blue.”) _

She hauls him up and down the the car. His long limbs are loose and tangly. She lays him in the back of the car and climbs in with him.

She does not cry.

Gansey is still on the phone. 

Blue puts Adam’s head in her lap. Runs her hands through his hair even though the front bits are crusty with dried blood. 

“You’re okay.” She says. He groans again. 

“I can’t-” He whispers, eyes still screwed tightly shut. Blue still runs her hand through his hair, but clicks the end button on the call. 

“Shh.” She whispers back, voice careful. 

The world is ending. 

“You’re okay. You’ll be okay.” Blue feels like she is pressing the pieces of Adam back together, holding him until he falls apart again. 

She repeats it again. 

“You’re okay.”

Gansey and Ronan and Noah come crashing into the waiting room of Henrietta General Hospital just as panicky as Blue feels inside. 

“Sargent.” Ronan barks, all edge. “What happened.”

Blue notices that they are all a little paler than usual, but that could also just be lighting. 

“He called me. Sounded like hell. Said his dad beat him real bad, that he might have done something permanent.”

She is sick of all of this. Explaining. She told it to the doctors and to the police and to her mom on the phone. She’s tired of the pained reactions.

“They’re not admitting him. Just a broken rib and concussion.”

“Oh.” Is all Gansey says, and then sits next to Blue. The chair squeaks beneath him. 

Blue hates hospitals. She hates Robert Parrish. She hates his son, too, for not getting out before things got too bad.

“He can’t hear out of his left ear. They don’t think he ever will.”

_ “I think he might have done something permanent, Blue.” _

“Oh.” Is all Gansey says again. 

“The timing of this is fucking impecable.” Ronan says. He’s still in his pajama pants. (They’re plaid.) 

Something stutters in Blue’s chest. Anger. She forgets all the nice things that Ronan has and just remembers the sharp edges. Just remembers the cruel smile, the call for Adam to join him and Noah by the tree. 

“Oh, pshaw. What was he supposed to do, wait until we found Glendower to get the shit kicked out of him by his dad?” 

Blue thinks that Ronan says things because he does not know any other way to deal with what’s inside of him. 

Ronan does not make eye contact with her after that. 

Very, very carefully, Gansey places his hand in hers. 

And because Adam Parrish, fragile but durable and frighteningly stubborn, is somewhere in this hospital, beaten and sorry, Blue lets him. 

(Also because she is painfully scared, but she would die before she admitted that.)

“Okay.” Noah says. His face is dull in a way that Blue has never seen it.

“Okay.” Blue says back. 

_ Okay. _

Adam does not speak when he sees Blue and Ronan and Noah and Gansey in the waiting room. He does not greet them with a grin. Does not hug any of them. Just takes his quiet place next to Blue and grips her hand. Vigilant. 

He does not speak getting into the car. Does not assure Ronan, who is looking at him like he’s fragile, that he is okay. (Because he does not think it is. He’s not entirely sure yet.) 

He lays his head against the window. The coolness of it feels good. Startling, like Adam is surprised that he can still feel anything at all. 

_ He cannot hear out of his left ear. _

He does not speak when he gets out of the car at 300 Fox Way, does not speak when Maura wraps him into a hug. 

She offers him tea. He does not want any. He feels weary to the bone, worn out and pained. Maura is still looking at him expectantly, hand frozen over a mug. 

He speaks now.

“I want to sleep.” It comes out cracked and shattered and everything Adam has made himself not be. Pleading. 

He does not speak when Blue leads him up to her bedroom. Does not speak when they all stand there, watching him. 

He hates this.

Everything hurts. 

He stares at Blue’s unmade bed, the book on the nightstand. At the makeshift trees staple gunned to the walls, the mound of fabric bundled in the corner, the sewing kit laying haphazardly next to it. He stares at the photos tacked up onto the wall with masking tape. He’s fairly sure he’s in at least one of those. 

He feels cracked and shattered and pleading. 

Blues room is everything she is. Messy and weird and loud. 

This hurts too much. 

Adam’s head is on fire. It feels like someone shoved a sword in there and then yanked it back out again. 

Blue is staring at him. So is Gansey and Noah. Ronan is focussed on Adam’s shoes, face screwed up like he doesn’t want to witness the undoing of Adam Parrish. 

Ronan Lynch, expression laid bare. 

And like that, Adam Parrish, a sepia army of one, drops his head into his hands and begins to cry. 

He does not speak while Blue forces him into her bed. Does not speak when she flicks the lights off. Does not speak into the endless black of Blue Sargents bedroom, does not speak as he gets up to turn off the nightlight in the corner. 

Adam feels like the most lonesome boy in the world. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie I hope you likey  
I write too much


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahahahahahahahah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst I guess along with trash

They don’t talk about it in front of Adam.

Don’t talk about the late night they had after picking him up from the hospital, don’t talk about the shaky voices around the kitchen table, or the raspy ones from lack of sleep.

They do not talk about how Gansey and Blue hold hands, do not talk about Whelk, do not talk about the ever growing wrinkle in Gansey’s brow, the ever growing dark circles beneath Parrish’s eyes, the white knuckles hand holding thing that Blue, Parrish and Noah have going on.

(Ronan notices how Adam is always in the middle.)

Ronan notices a lot, especially when it comes to Adam. 

They go to get Adam’s stuff from the trailer, and Ronan notices how Adam can not stop touching his left ear. 

Ronan is used to the mess inside of him, but he knows not everyone is like that. Especially not Adam Parrish, southern sweetness, long fingers, long arms, long legs. Ronan cannot imagine what he is thinking, because even though his father is dead and his mom is close to it, they loved him up until everything went to shit. 

“Can you turn on the music?” Adam asks Ronan, removing his hand from his ear and securing it down onto the hem of his borrowed sweater. (Jimi’s, technically, even though Persephone made it.) 

Ronan reaches for his phone, jams it into the aux cord, then scrolls through his music.

They are getting painfully close to the trailer park, and Adam is beginning to squirm. 

So Ronan plays the murder squash song at full volume, and laughs when Adam jumps. Sings along loud enough to wake the neighbors, watching Adam out of the corner of his eye. Adam doesn’t join him in singing, or turn the volume down, just lets a small smile reach his lips. 

Ronan counts that as a win. 

They pull up to the double wide, and Adam is already stumbling out of the car before Ronan pulls it into park. Ronan pulls himself out too. Stares at Adam, who is frozen, hands gripped around himself like he is the one holding himself together. 

(He’s not. He’s being held together by borrowed sweaters and bandages and Blue and Gansey’s coffee and Noah’s random sticker sheets he keeps giving to Adam.)

“You don’t have to do this, man.” Ronan says, joining Adam on his right side. 

“Yeah, I do.” Adam says. His eyes are fixated on the front stoop of the double wide. His fingernails are digging into his arm. 

They walk up to the door. Quiet. Ronan can hear Adam breathing, swallowing, removing his hand from the sweater to bang on the flimsy screen door.

“Adam.” Is all Mrs. Parrish says when it opens. Not angry. Not stern. Not yelling, not screaming, not demanding. Not anything.

Mrs. Parrish looks like Adam down to the hollow face, wide set eyes, and drawn mouth. It shocks Ronan how much she looks like him. He thinks, briefly, darkly, that at least Adam doesn’t have to look into a mirror and see his father, but then Ronan isn’t so sure how much better looking like his mother is. 

“He said you’d be back.” She says, then opens the door to let him in. Even Adam’s accent is hers, rounding edges and slurring vowels and cutting off letters all together. 

Ronan looks at Adam. He cannot read the look on his face. 

“I’m not.” Adam says. Sharp, Cold. Angry.

Maybe Adam and Ronan are not so different because this is the kind of anger that Ronan has, cold, washed with poison, enough to kill. Sharp and tricky and out of hand, overflowing with how much of it there is. 

“I’m not back.” Adam repeats. “I’m getting my stuff and then I’m leaving.” 

Adam’s mom sighs like this is the most inconvenient thing in the world, like she knows Adam inside out, skin and bone, brain and muscle. 

Ronan mirrors Adam, cold anger flowing from his edges. 

“We can get through this, Adam. As a family. Where else are you gonna go?”

Ronan was wrong. Mrs. Parrish is nothing like Adam because Adam is not capable of this level of manipulation. 

Adam speaks before Ronan can.

“You don’t know me.” He spits. “You let him hit me my entire life and you want me to stay?” He sighs, but it is completely unlike his mothers. 

“I’m taking my stuff and then I’m leaving.”

And he does. Grabs the textbooks from the floor, the walmart t-shirts from the dresser (Banged and bruised and warped, falling apart). The photos in the bottom drawer, the box of cash taped to the frame of the bed against the wall. 

Ronan is hit then, that Adam is really doing this. Moving out and away and never coming back.

He is also hit with how little he has, enough to fit into his arms. 

They pile everything into the backseat. 

Then pile in themselves. Adam looks like something out of a horror movie, the far away gaze, dark circles under his eyes, morning sun feather light on his feather light (and lately, hollowed) features. 

It’s silent for a little too long. Ronan does not trust Adam when he’s lost in his head. 

“Parrish.” He says, pulling out of the trailer park. Past the mailboxes, back onto asphalt. 

“I need to move out of Blue’s house.” Adam says, fingers back to worrying a hole into the sweater. 

“Why?”

“Just cause.” Adam snaps, suddenly angry. 

“Adam.” Ronan repeats. Turns down the music. He knows that Adam is either about to scream at him or cry until he can’t breathe or even a mix of both. 

“Stop fucking repeating my name like that.” Adam says. “Like I’m some of Gansey’s fucking glassware or something.”

Ronan sighs, and that only seems to further Adam into anger.

“What, I’m not allowed to be worried about you?” Ronan sneers. Pulls the car to the shoulder of the road because Adams fingers have worked their way through the sweater and are now digging themselves into his arm. 

“I don’t want your pity, Ronan. I don’t want your rich boy shit, your stupid money, your walking on fucking eggshells.”

“Jesus, Adam!” Ronan shouts all together. “I get this sucks. I get it. You’re being an asshole, though, and you should really stop talking.”

“Fuck you, Ronan. You don’t get it.” Is all Adam spits. His eyes are still just as blank as before.

“You’re not some, enigma, Adam. You’re not some unknowable fucking force. Quit acting like you are.”

That feels like the end of it. 

Ronan pulls the car back into the road. 

Adam is quiet beside him, vigilant and angry and rough and ragged. Ronan bites his lip. He wants to go home. He’d rather fight with Declan than Adam.

“Let me out.” Adam says, suddenly. Softly.

“What?”

“I need to get out. Let me out, Ronan.”

“What the fuck, Parrish? Are you fucking insane?” He slows for the stop light. 

“Let me out.” 

“No.”

Parrish’s white knuckles are on the door handle, fumbling, yanking. Before Ronan can blink, Adam’s out of the car, falling onto asphalt, scrambling to right himself.

Ronan slams on the breaks even though it will wreck the tires. Flings off his seatbelt, climbs to the passenger seat, throws open the door.

He almost hits Adam in the head, who is huddled in the ground, crumpled. His forearms are bloody and scraped from falling onto the pavement. 

“Adam.” Ronan says, hoisting him from the ground. He is shaky in his arms. “Fucking idiot.”

“The world is ending around me.” Adam blurts, suddenly, in such a non-Adam way that Ronan is surprised.

“It’s okay.” Ronan says. Adam is not crying yet. 

“It’s not.” Adam replies, cold angry. He is looking at his forearms like he doesn’t understand how they got hurt. 

“The world isn’t ending. It’s okay.” Adam looks at him then, for a long, long time. 

“Can you take me back to Blue’s?” Adam says then. 

Ronan nods. Once. 

( _ Adam Parrish, poor as dirt, witty as hell, shattered into a million pieces.)  _

He does not move. 

“I want to kiss you.” Adam breathes. Softly. Barely more than a whisper. “May I?”

Ronan’s heart stops. Restarts. 

“Sure.” 

And they are crashing together, slotted into each other. Messy and bloody and crying. Asteroids set on a course to earth. 

“ _ I feel like the world’s ending.”  _ Adam had said. Shaky. He is not shaky under Ronan’s hands. 

A car honks. Loud. They both flinch.

“Okay.” Is all Ronan says, then circles the car and gets into the BMW. 

( _ Adam Parrish, poor as dirt, witty as hell shattered into a million pieces.) (Capable of love and capable of being loved.) _

Ronan drives them back to Fox way. Wraps up Adam’s forearms, fingers lingering. Careful and tentative and shy. 

Ronan tried to contain the smile. ( _ Adam Parrish kisses him and Ronan kisses back because that is what he wanted since he met him, scrappy and angry and intertwined with Blue Sargent.) _

He can’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck is this


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam Parrish is a human disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!

Adam Parrish is a human disaster, a comet crashing toward earth. The ocean, swelling,  _ swelling _ , hungry and raging, catastrophic. 

He doesn’t understand himself anymore. Doesn’t understand the carefully sorted shelves in his brain, doesn’t understand the section about Ronan. Doesn’t understand highways and headlights, scraped forearms and kisses. Doesn’t understand Ronan Lynch, shaved head and harsh laughter, steady hands and careful hugs. 

He doesn’t understand, and Adam doesn’t like that feeling too much. 

He can’t help but feel like everything’s rising, crashing, growing around him. Glendower. He can feel it, and if he does, he knows Whelk does too. 

“We’re not doing the ritual.” Gansey says. They’re sitting at the kitchen table, one jumbled mess of teenage angst, sweaty hands, and Aglionby sweaters. 

Adam scoffs.  _ They need to do it. Now. Or else Whelk will and then the world will fall apart. _

“I don’t care about the risk.”

Ronan glances at him, gnawing on those leather bands. 

“Me neither.” He says. Gansey glares. 

“You have nothing to lose,” Something in Adam lights, a tiny match in a world of darkness and water. “And you don’t care if you live or die. That makes the both of you bad judges.”

Blue and Adam make eye contact. 

“You have nothing to gain,” She says to Gansey. “That makes you an equally bad judge.” Her eyes are set on Adam, mouth hard and sharp. Not cruel. (Not yet.)

God, Blue is sick of Adam and disappointed and scared, everything he doesn’t want her to be. 

“But I think I agree.” She continues. 

Gansey nods. Wistful. 

“So we wait.”

Adam pushes his chair back. Almost topples over, stumbiling, but steadies him on the back of Ronan’s chair. 

They’re wrong. They can’t wait because then Whelk will get the favor and kill them all, Gansey especially. 

“We don’t have  _ time. _ He snaps. “The ley line is going to be woken in the next few days. Persephone said.”

“Adam.” Blue says. Bordering on angry. 

God, she hates him, she hates him,  _ she hates him. _

“This isn’t a game. We are not messing with this.”

“We have to, Blue!” He’s getting loud. Reaching somewhere between panic and calm. A mix in between. Both, at the same time. 

“I’m not gonna fuel your stupid sacrificial suicide quest, Adam!” She yells. Sudden. She does not let go of his gaze. 

Ronan's hands have dropped from his mouth. He’s staring. Not in the way that Noah is, some sort of quite, concerned, shock. This is worse. Curiosity, like Adam is some puzzle to be cracked, some enigma, some pet for him to learn and keep. 

_ Ronan, gripping onto him like something might rip him away, crashing lips, again, again, again. The ocean, swelling, swelling, hungry and raging, catastrophic.  _

“You have a concussion, Adam.” She says. Softer, but not quite the voice she used to use with him, light and happy, not concerned at all. “Cracked ribs, too. You need sleep, not the ley line.” 

He stares at her. He doesn’t know what he feels like anymore. 

“Okay.” He says, finally. Halfway up the stairs, he hears Noah's voice, dulled.

“I think he might be spiralling.” 

Adam continues up the stairs. 

God, he probably is, but right now, the ley line heavy in his mind, he can’t bring himself to care. 

When Noah wakes up, moonlight cool on his face, everything is chaos. A feverish frenzy.

“What’s going on?” He asks, to Ronan, a statue of nonchalance in the doorway. Two pairs of footsteps pound upstairs, frantic.

“Parrish is missing.” Ronan says. 

“Oh.”

_ Oh. _

Noah likes Adam. A lot. The careful voice, the measured smiles, the full blown laugh. He’s scared for him, though. Noah is slowly learning that when Adam Parrish aches, he yells, and he’s been doing an awful lot of that. 

Gansey comes down the stairs, Blue not far behind, hair sticking up, glasses dangling on his shirt. 

“He took the Pig.” 

“Oh.” Ronan says this time.

_ Oh. _

Maura joins them in the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

“Maura.” Gansey barks. Noah would know she would yell at him if this was another occasion. “Check the trailer. Ronan, we’re taking the BMW to Cabeswater.”

_ Oh, oh, oh. _

Noah knows that Adam feels like the world is collapsing around him. (Ronan told him.)

God, he can’t imagine. 

When Blue and Gansey and Ronan and Noah step into Cabeswater, it’s suddenly bright. Dusty orange, sun washing everything with rose gold. Blue would be in awe, if she wasn’t so scared. 

“Adam!” She yells, into Cabeswater. Her voice travels far more than it should.

Gansey clamps a hand around her mouth. Removes it after she’s got the message. 

“Whelks here, too.”

“God, Gansey.” She says. Resits from smacking him. “I don’t care about Whelk. I just need Adam.”

She follows Ronan, then. 

They catch Whelk only seconds later. Adam is with him, look malevolent and like something dark. A gun is in his hands, pointed square at Whelks face. 

_ “He has a gun.” Adam had told her once. “My dad.” _

Blue’s heartbeat quickens. This complicates things. 

“Mr. Whelk!” Gansey is shouting, voice all too smooth and all too even. 

Neeve is tied up, Blue releases , all at once. 

Gansey flicks his hand in Neeves direction. “Untie her.” 

And then, just like that, Neeve is gone.

Adam wavers. 

_ Good. Please don’t shoot anyone, Adam.  _

And then everything is moving. Whelk is a blur, reaching for the gun in Adam’s hands, wrestling it from him. Noah runs forward, joining Ronan as he lunges at him, but Whelk hits him over the head with the gun and swings to point it at Gansey. Noah grabs for the gun, and Blue can very suddenly see that Noah is very close to having a bullet lodged somewhere into his skull.

“No!” Blue says, and she’s moving too, helping Ronan from the ground, hitting the gun out of Whelks hands, snatching at Adam as he throws himself into the center of the pentagram, holding Ronan back as he almost throws himself in, too. 

Adam is sinking to his knees, eyes shut, forehead wrinkled. Carefully, methodically, everything Blue Sargent knows Adam Parrish to be, he tucks his hands into the dirt and says in a voice all too clear:

“I sacrifice myself.”

Nothing is still. Gansey is shouting at Adam to stop. Blue joins him, louder and scareder and fuelled by 9 years of friendship, of sweaty hands, of broken bicycle chains and shaky laughs. 

It all fades out. Like a television on mute. Like the world is holding its breath. 

  
  


The ground began to roll.

The ground began to roll, and everything is loud again. 

“It’s an earthquake!” Gansey shouts. Blue stumbles to him, holding onto to Noah and Ronan like they’ll die if she doesn’t.

“Look what you’ve done, you crazy bastard!” Ronan is shouting at Adam. 

Blue watches it happen. Watches Whelk stumble up from the ground, gun clutched victoriously in his hand like a trophy, a prize. He raises the gun. It is not pointed at Gansey or Noah anymore. 

“What would you know what to do with power?” He spits, venomous. “What a waste. What a fucking waste.”

_ No, no, no. _

“ADAM!” Blue screams.

Whelk pulls the trigger. 

The bullet does not touch him.

“Why?” Gansey shouts at Adam, recovering. “Were we really that awful?”

Adam looks tired, standing in the middle of the pentagram. Sad. 

“What have you done?” She screams in the absence of Adams voice. 

If the world didn’t end when Blue picked up Adam from the trailer, it’s ending now. 

“What needed to be done, Blue.” He’s shaking, Blue reliezes. He pries the gun from Whelks hands, and Whelk doesn’t even stop him.

Blue does not understand. 

The trees are hissing, rapid, angry,  _ alive. _

“Something’s coming.” Adam says, soft. He stumbles over to them, and Blue shoves him into her arms. She does not want to let go. 

It’s a stampede, some sort of thing that breathes magic, something that has it running, liquid, through its veins.

Blue cannot stop looking. Cannot bring herself to stop staring at the things run Whelk over, cannot stop herself from listening, cannot stop herself from watching Whelks body get more and more broken.

Gansey lets out something choked and pained in the back of his throat. 

Then the things are gone, and the trees are hissing again. Latin. Blue pries her eyes from Whelk to Ronan for a translation. 

“They say there've always been rumors of a king buried somewhere along the spirit road.” Ronan’s eyes hold Gansey’s. “They think he might be yours.”

Adam collapses in Blue’s arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry about this cause it is a jumble of words THAT MAKE NO SENSE TOGETHER and for that I’m sincerely sorry that I’m too lazy to fix that


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crap, guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the wait!! I lost motivation!!!! AHHHH! but i love you guys lots and reading all of your comments gave me motivation again.

No matter how much Blue's chest aches with longing, no matter how much Adam's hands shake, things are okay. 

They have Gansey. Have Ronan and Noah, Chainsaw, and Maura Sargent, even though she will never admit it. 

“Christ, Parrish.” Ronan Lynch says, sniffing. He’s standing in the doorway of Adam’s new apartment above St. Agnes, Chainsaw on his shoulder. 

He is carrying a potted plant, which makes Adam’s eyebrow raise. 

Blue turns away from Adam to Ronan with a look of mock disgust. 

“Lynch.”

“Maggot.”

And then they’re laughing, and Blue is reaching for the plant and she pets Chainsaw and Adam is struck with how very  _ odd _ this is. He steps forward. Accepts the plant, and balances it on one of the hideous shelves. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks. The plant is nice. Adam does not know what kind it is, but that doesn’t really mean anything because Adam isn’t very into plants. 

“Helping you unpack. Gansey and Noah are coming by later. They’re buying you a housewarming present.” Ronan looks around. “This place is a shithole.”

Adam wrinkles his nose even though Ronan is right. The floorboards are splintery. Half the furniture is plastic that was bought at Target. It’s dusty and the lighting is bad and it makes everything look depressing but it doesn’t matter because it is  _ his. _

“Yeah.” Adam hums once. Kicks the trash can out of the way and moves the bucket of mop water because now that Ronan is here, he cannot help but feel embarrassed by how gross the apartment is. 

( _ But it’s his. That’s all that matters. Not Blue’s, not Gansey’s. His.) _

It is painfully silent for a bit. Adam can hear people down below playing the organ. 

“Well.” Blue says. “Awkward. I’m gonna go downstairs to meet Gansey and Noah so y’all can have a nice manly conversation about self sacrifice and love.”

Adam smacks her. Not lightly, either, but Blue punches him back, grins, opens the door and prances down the stairs. 

“So.” Ronan says. Looks around some more. Chainsaw squawks. 

“I hate that bird.” Adam says, even though he doesn’t. (He just wants Ronan to talk to Adam until he can’t, wants to argue, wants to yell, want’s  _ anything, everything, the entire world, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan. _ ) He turns around and examines the plant. “Have you been watering this thing? This leaf is turning yellow.”

“Parrish.” Is all Ronan says, and Adam hates that. He thinks this might be the first time they’ve talked since Cabeswater. Since Whelk. Since Adam ruined everything, since he indirectly killed someone, since Neeve disappeared, since everyone started to look at him differently.  _ Look what you’ve done, you crazy bastard! _

“What.” He’s a little angry now. Blue keeps trying to tell himself that that is allowed. He turns from the plant to Ronan, who is now sprawled onto Adam’s bed. 

“Your bed is shit.” 

“I know.” 

Ronan is smirking. Then smiling. Then laughing.

“What.” Adam says. Ronan doesn’t look dangerous to him anymore.

“Parrish, this is so dumb. I’m not fucking mad at you or whatever.”

“Okay.”

“Come here, loser. I’m cold.”

Adam knows Ronan is not, but he lays on the bed anyway. 

There are approximately 2 inches in between them, and Adam desperately wants to close the space. He doesn’t, because even though Ronan bandages his scraped arms, who gives touches away like gifts, Ronan is pointy, and Adam is terrified of cutting himself on him. Even more terrified about getting mad and cutting Ronan instead, because Adam is pointy, too. 

Adam is attracted to Ronan in a way that hurts, because he knows that they shouldn't fit. Shouldn’t work, like Gansey and Blue.

“You okay?” Ronan asks, and Adam does not know how he manages to be sharp and dull at the same time. 

“Tired.” Adam blinks. The cracks in the ceiling are starting to look like vines. 

“You need to sleep more.”

“I know.”

The silence is stifling.

It feels good. To sit in the quiet. 

“Can I hold your hand?” Ronan asks. Something clangs from downstairs, and Adam can hear Blue’s laughter. “Is that okay?”

Adam swallows. Nods. The cracks in the ceiling just look like cracks in plaster now. 

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

Ronan hands are warm and big and  _ nice. _ Adam would like to think they fit with his, too. 

His head hurts. His ribs do, too, if he thinks about it, but Adam usually doesn’t want to. 

“You better have been lying about Chainsaw.” Ronan says, turns slightly, so Adam can catch a sliver of Ronan’s eyes from the corner of his vision.

Adam laughs. It’s a little forced, but something loosens in his chest. 

He grips Ronan’s hand tighter. 

(His anchor, something keeping him in place, less erratic, less messy, less dangerous, less  _ angry. _ He doesn’t feel lost at sea.)

“I was.”

“Good.”

They stare at the cracked ceiling, and things are okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this so very, very much but i needed to finish it. I'm in a terrible mood all the time and i think you can probably tell through this chapter. But sorry!!!! Thank you for reading!!! I love you guys!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter!!!!!!!!!! Im super excited for this fic!!!!!! I hope you likey!!!!!!!!!1


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